


Take a Leap

by BoredPsychopath_JC



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: First Date, M/M, One Shot, Smitten Eames POV, Somewhere after canon timeline, art gallery date, in which the writer subtly forcing one of her OTPs shipping another of her OTPs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-11 22:11:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11723613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoredPsychopath_JC/pseuds/BoredPsychopath_JC
Summary: Eames has had a fair share of Arthur’s various states and moments, yet seeing him lost in thought in front of a painting is something new.





	Take a Leap

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pigfarts23](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pigfarts23/gifts).



> Unbeta-ed. BUT I have to post and gift Autumn this a day later than the intended day with all my best wishes, hugs and non-extraness (lol) <333 I’m unapologetic for self-indulgence and any OOCness(?) because I now accept that I’m the one supplying rubbish fic to restore the balance of the universe, disturbed by masterpieces and master writers in this fandom *bows dramatically*
> 
> Also please consider this as a love letter to all Inceptioners and the Bond fandom <3 Sorry I wasn’t around much (I’ve been too drained by a weird form of anxiety) but you guys have been so tolerant, supportive, kind and sweet. I DON’T DESERVE YOU ALL *sobs*

Of course Eames never loses Arthur, be it in dreams or in reality, for he always knows where to find. When he doesn’t heed where his point man is, it’s purely intentional. He knows too well that Arthur doesn’t mind him keeping tabs. They’ve gone this far to find themselves at a proper date after all.

Specifically, a spontaneous date at the National Gallery of London. At least that's what Eames insisted over Arthur's protest.

There Arthur stands. Anywhere but i n front of nothing but the iconic _The Fighting Temeraire,_ those gorgeous shoulders under the coat are tense.

It's clear that Arthur wishes for a moment of his own to his thoughts. Or a hug.

_We should have done it in dreams_. Eames suddenly hates the surrounding crowd which serves nothing but giving them cover, or rather, the irritating reminder that he has to restrain himself.

Patiently, he looks on from the opposite side of the hall, framing that slender figure with tempting un-gelled hair perfectly against the rosy colours in his view, instead of the old warship. The air around his date gradually goes from rigid to nonchalant. 

Eames heads towards the man of his dreams. _Pun-intended_ , his mind supplies with an unnecessary wink. The noises from surrounding tourists and art students start to blur.

_Darling, talk to me_ , he wills. Arthur is now next to him, unmoved, their shoulder touching. Eames tries to get hints from the bare contact. 

Tourists come and go by. Eames opts for maintaining a steady presence, barring out the hazy orangery colours in front of him. He's going to stay on guard discreetly so the other man could stay lost.

“I thought you’d be teasing me about James Bond,” Arthur eventually starts.

“Darling, that’s the last thing I thought you’d say. Did you watch that film because of me?” Eames is definitely trying to lighten the atmosphere. He beats himself for trying _too_ hard.

There’s unplaced and suppressed emotions packed within the brief time before Arthur speaks again.

“It’s for a mark,” Arthur huffs. “Don’t flatter yourself, Mr Eames.”

“Have I?” Eames smiles softly. He doesn’t mimic a person outside dreamscapes- he has to a reputation and surprises to protect- but he’d always make an exception for Arthur. Naturally, he tries his best Ben Whishaw impersonation. “ _What do you see_?”

“Inevitability…” Arthur mutters, the gloom now settling back, heavier than ever, on his lithe frame. As if realising he’s spoke his thoughts, Arthur shakes his head to quickly add, “Eames, it’s been great today. I’ve been thinking—“

“Darling, Arthur.” Eames doesn’t need mind-reading ability to know what that will lead to. Arthur at his serious planning and explaining mode is quite a turn-on, yet this isn’t the time for indulgence. “Look at me.”

Arthur does. Looking into those eyes, Eames can no longer stop words flowing out from his mind and mouth.

“I appreciate it very much. Every time you take excellent care of your team and protect everyone in jobs. But _this-_  I’ve wanted this all along and planned for this to happen so don’t you give me that bullshit about liability and inevitability. If you don’t want this for other reasons, I’d accept it. Gladly, I swear. But for that excuse I’m having none of it. Yes, I clearly understand that in the line of our work anything could happen. Just please, Arthur, please let me prove it to you. There’s no point of denying or delaying our time together.”

Arthur’s wide brown eyes fixed on him. Eames, for once, isn’t gleeful at the sight of a speechless Arthur. He’s instead currently torn between his own surprise at such an outburst and his annoyance at his lack of self-control. He softens his tone, looking into the depth of those eyes.

“You pulled off that virtually impossible fall at zero gravity, darling. Don’t you dare to assume we can’t do better in real life to make more time to ourselves together.”

Realising he is way too much within Arthur’s personal space in public, Eames leans back. Arthur somehow always successfully lure him out of his well-guarded self-control. He doesn’t know when he was last so desperate to assert himself through completely showing his hand. He's a born conman but well, here he is. Maybe he should recall back clearly what he said just now so he knows what to say next—

A hand on Eames's shoulder stops the train of thought. Then there's a pull. Gentle and steady. He feels Arthur’s cheek pressed to the side of his neck. His mouth curves up involuntary at the feeling of that rare little bit of stubble. He can’t help but getting calmer amid his inner turmoil. His fingers have instinctively found their way into Arthur’s soft hair already.

“I’ll give us time.” There’s a soft mumble. Eames doesn’t comment on the unique sound, lasting as fleeting as the pressure he just felt on his jaw. Part of him wishes for the day when he could proudly wear a visible mark above his collar with sheer happiness. Arthur gently let him go, eyes on the warship again.

“I know,” Eames states, surprised by the reverence slipping in his own voice. “I believe you. I believe in _us._  From that moment since we stopped pointing our guns at one another.”

Arthur gives him an eye roll at the last line he uttered. Eames internally berates himself for the last remark, which sounds too much as a joke for the moment. Still, as those eyes are on him again, he knows Arthur understands. He wishes he could record the exasperated sigh. Or imprint on every optical neurones that handsome precious face before him. His heart still skips a bit whenever he’s greeted with those dimples and a dangerous glint in those eyes. He forces a deep breath in. They’ve shown too much in public. He should've known better. Additionally, there're conversations in private awaiting.

“Shall we go home, darling?”

“You’re not touching me before I finish erasing all the records of our presence here.”

Eames simply shrugs and follows Arthur the way out. It won’t take long for Arthur to sort out that kind of things. 

“I’m still not having a James Bond marathon with you, Mr. Eames.”

“You would like it,” Eames mockly protests. They’re on top of the stairs leading down to the gallery exit. With the moment gone, Arthur looks thoughtful again, pausing with his gaze down at the mosaic floor. Eames can’t help taking Arthur’s hand into his, giving it a squeeze.

“Take a leap of faith, shall we?”

**Author's Note:**

> I was at the National Gallery of London in March and May. Since I laid my eyes on the said painting, this plot bunny has NEVER let me go, helping me even through my fears that I would bomb the best plot bunny I’ve ever found (I still think I did bomb it but I tried passionately as much as possible). Also small thanks to the two cups of GORGEOUS Earl Grey blend served at the National Gallery cafe. HIGHLY RECOMMENDED. 
> 
> In case you’ve never seen _The Fighting Temeraire_ , GO WATCH _SKYFALL_ and thank me later lol (God, I miss London.)
> 
> Kudos and comments are the best things I could make into some libation for my long-suffering Muses :3 I truly hope this little piece could bring readers something bright and positive x


End file.
